The Place That You Call Home
by WerewolfDoctor
Summary: How did Harry go from a boy moving from place to place to the wizard we know and love, who calls Chicago 'his city' and would protect it with his life (and everything else he has)?


Harry is six when his Dad dies. He sits in the hospital waiting room, feet swinging from the plastic chair, staring at his shoes. He's not really sure what he feels, but he doesn't really believe them when they tell him his Dad has gone away.

His Dad will be back. All he has to do is sit in the chair and wait.

…

Of course his Dad doesn't come back and he's moved. To where and with who doesn't matter after a while, there is always another place. He lives in the system and the system doesn't care.

One thing remains in every place he passes through. He doesn't belong.

He begins to form his shell and it is decided he is a 'problem child'. He doesn't know what that means; his shell protects him from the bullies, both adult and child. Or, at least, it's meant to.

Then comes Justin and for the first time in a long time he feels as if he belongs, and learning magic is more wonderful than he has words to describe. It doesn't matter that Justin is harsh and a little manipulative, that's the price he pays for home. Besides, magic is dangerous, it makes sense that he would be a stern teacher, and Elaine is always there to sooth his hurts.

Justin isn't his father, but he's the closest Harry has gotten in a long time and sometimes he likes to pretend they're a family, him, Justin and Elaine.

Of course, that's when it all goes wrong.

…

He doesn't trust the old man they've sent him to, but at least the old man doesn't lie and tell him everything's going to be okay now. He appreciates that. Ebenezer tells him that if he works hard he can maybe, someday get a place of his own. Harry likes working on the farm, likes the animals and Ebenezer helps him quiet the storm in his mind that's been threatening to blow ever since the trial.

Harry loses more blood carving his own magical foci than he ever thought he possessed, but he loves the feeling of _creating_ something. He learns about more magic than simply _fire_. He never does get the hang of Latin, despite Ebenezer's best efforts and a correspondence course.

Of course, the one thing Ebenezer really teaches him, the one thing that matters, and the one thing Harry loves him for (even when he's angry at Ebenezer) is Purpose. Ebenezer gives Harry a direction to his magic, a reason to learn, to exist in the world.

…

It's Chicago where Harry finally decides to make his home. He isn't exactly sure how he makes this decision, or why, only he's sure that Chicago was where he's going. He steps into the busy streets and he loves it. He loves the musty office where he works for Nick. He loves the sickly kitten with matted fur that he found in a dumpster and named 'Mister'. He loves his pokey little apartment. He loves his elderly neighbours who thankfully never hear the bangs of potions and spells gone wrong.

He loves his landlady, who sometimes leaves care packages when he looks 'peaky' (meaning six days without sleep and only a couple of meals between them) though she never admits to it.

He loves the patient thrill of the chase (even when it's something as pointless as finding a lost necklace) and the satisfaction of helping someone. The money isn't so bad either.

He has to admit he seems to be spectacularly talented at getting into trouble, but whilst he's not so fond of the life-threatening danger (although sometimes when the adrenaline is pumping…) he _does_ like being the good guy.

He loves the friends he's beginning to make, Murphy and Michael, these brilliant wonderful people. He's never had friends like them before and something warm burns in his belly at the thought of them.

Along with it comes the terror at the thought of losing it all. It's a low terror, deep in his in his stomach, a constant churning. It would be like losing his Dad again, losing his family, losing E – But this is it, he's no longer drifting from place to place, he's set. He _belongs_. There's no resetting Harry Dresden to factory settings now. Chicago is _his_ city. He knows it when he paces the street, when he breathes the air. This filthy, dangerous, beautiful place is his; he knows it as surely as he knows the shape of his first spell. This is his city, his home.

And God help anybody who tries to hurt his city.


End file.
